The Stormcrown Alliance:The Reincarnate
by Hhall2014
Summary: My story of the Nerevarine's life after the events of the DLC. It will tie in with my story The Reachman. It will also tie in with my story of the dragonborn. College of Winterhold reformation of Resdayn
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is in the same continuity as my other story the Reachman. But it starts twenty years before. It gives the Winterhold story a little twist. A twist I like. I change the factions of Skyrim because I don't believe its realistic that all the factions get new leaders just because of the Dragon Crisis. Sorry not sorry. This was influenced by Doctor Who and Torchwood. the reference is clear, but fill free to review me and share your opinion.**

**The Beginning of the Journey **

**Morrowind.**

I stared at the burned out rubble of my former home. I had sat here without eating for a several weeks. I knew normal people couldn't do this, but I was not normal. I am an immortal God-killing reincarnate. To put a very long story short, an old emperor had sent me to Morrowind many years ago to stop a demon from taking over and fracturing his empire. I was a child of prophecy. There I discovered my soul was immortal. I had lived hundreds of lives, all dating back to Indoril Nerevar. With the tampering of an old psychotic wizard and the formulated disease of Dagoth Ur, the demon i came to kill, I also made my body as immortal as my soul.

Before this, when i died my soul passed back into Aetherius. Now when I died I woke up several hours later. I would be out of breath sometimes in immense pain but I always woke up.

The footsteps of armored soldiers drew me out of my nostalgia. Argonians were armed to the teeth, or maybe they were using their teeth as armaments, I wasn't really sure at the time. They were using the explosion of Red Mountain as a way to invade Morrowind. By Azura's stars, I was meant to lead my people instead I had abandoned them.

I had used my underlings in the Blades to spread rumors that I had left for Akivir, and I settled down in a Telvanni mushroom tower. After defeating Dagoth Ur, and killing Alamexia, I went to mainland Morrowind and had some Telvanni form me a tower. For many years I filled my tower with many people. It was the only Telvanni tower being run by a Redoran House member.

My allegiance was hard to explain, as I had lived many lives. I had an expansive reserve of magicka, as well as more combat experience than half the Imperial Legion. I was a literal god among men.

The natives of Morrowind worshiped me. I had reveled in it for years. Then I had become bored of it. I shut the doors to my estate and my people were the only one allowed out or in.

Then Red Mountain erupted. I had felt the tremors for days. It was where I had killed my ancient enemy. I had sundered the Heart of Lorkhan. I gained the power to kill a god.

I had my tower built along the coast of the inner sea. When the mountain blew its top it destroyed all of Vardenfall and most of the mainland. That part of the mainland included my home.

Now the Argonians were taking revenge on my homeland. They assumed I was a mere corpse, one of the few uncharred bodies left in the devastation. When my blade sliced through several of their bodies they knew otherwise. I fought on and on and on. I killed scores of the lizard men before one cut my arm. It was a flesh wound, but the beast man had soaked his blade in a paralytic. I collapsed and the Argonian plunged their blade into me. What would effectively kill a mortal only put me out for hours.

When I had woken up I rushed summoned a mount and rode for Mournhold to tell the king what was happening.

When I went into the city all I found was death. Bodies of the dead Dunmer were built into large piles. Some burned while others sat to rot. Rats and guar alike were eating from the bodies. When I entered the palace I found where the army had set up it's defense. It had forsaken the people of the city and only defended the royal line. That in turn had been a miserable failure. I found the king was a jester's smile cut into his throat. His entire family lay dead in front of him. The Argonians had made him watch his family die before they had killed him.

I sat on one of the steps leading to the throne and prayed to my Mother. _Azura, Why have you forsaken your people? Why have you abandoned us? Where are you? What do I do now? Now that the people I was meant to lead are all dead. _

For the first time since I came to Morrowind I heard nothing from my patron Daedra.

I spent weeks in the city. I burned the piles of the dead. We Dunmer had came from ashes, and so unto the ashes we return. Slowly people began to come to the city, survivors who had escaped or hid joined me in rebuilding our once great city.

From these refugees I learned that House Redoran was leading the war effort from Blacklight. Blacklight had been proclaimed the new capital of Morrowind. After several weeks we felt confident enough to send word to the Redoran about our remaining number. We would join in the fight, I would join in the fight, if they helped repair the city.

I had waited upon the return of our courier. I had though surely when the great Hortator of the Great Houses, Nerevarine of the Ashlanders, Nerevar Incarnate, Son of Azura, offered his sword arm and spellbook that the very House I had belonged to would take me in.

When the courier came back the people, I doubt I could have been more wrong. apparently being the Nerevarine meant I no longer belonged to Redoran but was a member of House Indoril. Which was all but destroyed in the eruption of Red Mountain and the invasion. I was the bastion of a bygone era. The Redoran told me to leave Morrowind. My citizenship was revoked. My passport from the Imperial Province was revoked. I was exiled back to Cyrodil.

I would return from my roots.

**AN: I haven't revealed my Nerevarine yet. If you can guess it feel free to send it my way. If you guess correctly, I'll let you design a character I use later in my story. **


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Another chapter where I don't reveal my main character's identity, I will next chapter don't worry. Building up to my story which I'm saying will take place right after the Great War. Well, not this chapter but the rest of them. I'm making this chapter start at about 108 4E and will end right during the Great War. Maybe Forrest Gump style - highlight the keypoints of the Fourth Era. . S/O to Lady of Dov for beta reading my stories. She is literally a lifesaver. Check out her stories, I think they are great.**

**The Great War**

I have spent as much time on Nirn as a hundred Men. I have been the leader of a great nation. I have stolen from my very own descendants without knowing who they were. I conquered great lands. I have lived many lives. In the wake of Dagoth Ur's death, I was given a unique form of immortality. I couldn't die... permanently.

After being exiled from Morrowind, I fled back into Cyrodiil. I journeyed back to the Imperial City. I wanted to retrace my steps though time. I started with the life I knew best, my current one.

I was born in the Imperial City. My mother was a prostitute, my father was a mage. He had just left his own home. He had hopes to join the Mages Guild, and maybe one day he would be a court wizard. That was all my mother knew of him.

She died when I was very young, the pox or syphilis. One of the diseases that frequently visits body sellers. I was left to begging and stealing just to live. I was arrested at fifty-three years old, I spent fourty years in prison, then the Emperor sent me to Vardenfall to complete my destiny.

Now after all these years, I have returned. The city was the same, yet the people were vastly different. When I was last here, your race was not important. Man and Mer mixed freely. But now the tension in the city was very high. The High Elves were demanding the Talos Plaza District be renamed. They demanded better treatment than the beastfolk and the Bretons. Riots ensued throughout the city. The Altmer threatened to leave for Alinor. The Bosmer would go with them.

That's something new to me as well. Not High Elves being pretentious, or Bosmer being submersive, but them joining together for a reformed Aldmeri Dominion. It amused me at first, since I could remember the other Aldmeri Dominions. Heck, I had fought one Dominion with the Nords and Argonians. But these Elves took racial purging to a new level. They had previously only purged their own. Now they wanted to be the only ones on the planet.

The Khajiti were threatening to split their Confederacy. Some wanted to stay Imperial, some wanted the Dominion, and some wanted to be independant. Turmoil ran rampant through the Empire.

I knew if I stayed in the city, I would be targeted. I was one of the few figures who could rally the Empire, which meant the only one which could threaten the Thalmor. So I began traveling once again.

**...**

For months, maybe years, I traveled Tamriel. Seven years after I left Cyrodiil, the Mane of the Elsweyr Confederacy was killed. The nation split into two kingdoms and Alinor claimed them as a protectorate. The Empire watched as it was weakened even further. All that remained of the great Septim Empire was High Rock, Skyrim, Hammerfell, Morrowind, and Cyrodiil. Black March remained independant. It's lands grew wild. Not even I dared journey there.

I knew a storm was brewing. One not even I was ready for. Morrowind was still a disastor after the invasion. Redoran led the charge in repelling the Argonians, but knew little of ruling. Hammerfell was still split between Crowns and Forebears. So in reality, the Empire had three functioning provinces.

**...**

I had just left the New Gnisis Cornerclub, in the Snow Quarter of Windhelm. As I walked the streets looking for an odd job to do, the courier ran by.

"I'm off to see the Jarl!" He shouted and shouted. He knocked the inhabitants of the city out of the way as he sprinted for the Jarl's palace. I knew the Jarl personally. The Jarl was one of the few to know my true identity. To know I was the Reincarnate. I followed the courier into the Palace of Kings.

"Sir, Winterhold is detroyed!" The courier cried.

"What? By whose army?" The Nordic Jarl questioned. The anger in his voice mixed with his authority.

"No army, sir. It just collapsed. The Jarl of Winterhold is blaming the mages. The whole city just fell into the sea. All but a few homes, that is."

"And the College?"

"Sitting just fine, sir. It's practically an island. Sitting out alone."

**...**

After Skyrim fell apart trying to rebuild Winterhold, I traveled High Rock. I was always intrigued with the province. I was a child when the Hero of Daggerfall reshaped the province.

I spent years in Daggerfall. Studying the effects of the Numidium and its actions centuries prior. I traveled to meet Nulfaga. The old witch was using ancient magicka to preserve herself. I studied under her for many years. When I grew complacent, I traveled on.

I journeyed to Wayrest. I knew Berenziah had ruled here. I wanted to see if her influence remained. I had entered the palace wearing all my finery. When the king called the court into session, the first person to step up was an Imperial Legate.

"The Thalmor have marched on Leyawiin. The Emperor Titus Mede II has requested Wayrest's soldiers."

"The Emperor shall have them. Let no one say the Bretons didn't bleed for the Empire."

**...**

I had journeyed the world, yet here I was returning to Cyrodiil yet again.

I mainly fought with the Imperial Battlemages. Over the years, I had learned how to do arcane things only few could do. I had stopped trusting weaponry after accidentally falling on my sword while creeping through a dungeon in Hammerfell many years previously.

I stared out into the waves of golden clad soldiers. I knew this wasn't the end for me. I knew I would survive regardless, but I did not want the Thalmor to rule Tamriel. I saw how Yagrum Bagarn was treated as the last of the Dwemer, I did not wish for the same treatment. So I fought the uncoming Dominion with every spell I knew. I summoned Atronach's from the planes of Oblivion to help in my fight. I had recieved orders to to defend the footsoldiers from the mage fire.

Today was the retaking to the Imperial City. Titus Mede personally led our soldiers. I watched the middle aged commander cut down numerous Elven soldiers with a golden katana. As our attack advanced through the city, I saw Jonna's Nords fighting the Elves. I wondered if their ancestors looked the same way fighting the Snow Elves.

As we took the Red Ring Road, we began our plans to take back the City. I was to take charge of a squad of mixed soldiers and retake the Arcane University. When I had it captured, I was to cast a green Magelight from the University's tower.

My group of soldiers snuck our way around the Elven defenses, I cast water-breathing on my group of eight and we came around from the Waterfront. Taking the Thalmor unaware, I cast paralysis on their sentries while my two Breton nightblades shot them in the throat. I sent our Redguard with a Breton and the two Nords to take one side of the University while we took the other. We would meet in the middle to take the tower. I cast silence spells on any Aldmeri mages I saw, while I shot fireballs at the soldiers. We fought buidling to building, freeing imprisoned mages and scholars.

I was beginning to run out of magicka, I cast one last stoneflesh spell and conjured a sword to my right hand. We had two homes left. My Imperial comrades were exhausted but uninjured. My magicka had kept us running this long. We entered the closest building. We were searching for the Justicars, the most dangerous of the Thalmor. They were the witch hunters. They led pogroms against the "lesser races". They detected magicka users like a bloodhound, a rabbit. They would find me first.

I walked through a narrow doorway into what I believed to be a bedroom. Behind me I heard magicka wear off and knives slice across throats. I looked to see the two Imperials lying and bleeding out with two Justicars sneering over their bodies.

"You are but a dog and I am your master!" One taunted. I threw myself across the room into a fight with the first Justicar. He swung his mace up at my body. I kicked the mace away and sliced into his arm. It wasn't a deep cut but it would hurt the Mer. I felt the other Justicar swing down towards my back. I blocked the sword swing and rolled away. They closed in on me. They believed they had strength in numbers, they didn't know me.

I ran at the closer Elf, jumping in the air and stabbing him in the throat. I landed in a roll. As I came up other Elf cast flames at my back. It hit my stoneflesh spell and was absorbed. I slashed left into his sternum. His sword parried my blade. He swung into my body, his blade catching in my armor. I took the opportunity to slice off his sword hand. Then I beheaded him.

Sliding the sword from my ribcage, I cast the strongest healing spell I knew. I staggered to the door of the next building. I needed to regroup with Naseem, the Redguard. My half of our squad was gone. Two dead and one missing.

**...**

Thirty-three days after we recaptured the City, Naseem and I sat in a tavern. We had shed blood to retake our capital, in return our emperor sold us out to the High Elves. He ended the war. Hammerfell seceded from the Empire. During the war the Bretons of the Reach rebelled. Titus Mede had the Aldmeri Dominion's leader hung from the White-Gold Tower.

"So, Nazeem, what will you do now that the war is over?" I asked.

"Well, Hammerfell is still fighting. And I have family in the Alik'r desert. My son is leading the family." He replied.

"Son? Family?"

"Nazir, he is my oldest son. He is supposed to keep the family safe while I was gone."

"Well, good luck with your family. Have you heard about Lord Naarifin?" I tried to change the subject. Family was an awkward subject for me, I killed my wife and three closest friends.

"Supposedly been hanging for thirty-three days now. The battlemages been keeping him alive."

**...**

Before I left the Imperial City, I summoned Krazzt. I gained lordship of the dremora lord after I killed the Tribunal. When I killed the Tribunal, he was left masterless. He had no desire to return to Mehrunes Dagon after the Oblivion Crisis. I made him into my daedric butler.

"Krazzt, take down Naarifin. Take him to Azura's realm. Tell her he is from me. Ask her to put him to work for a "lesser race".

When I left the Imperial City, I headed for the last place to learn more of the arcane arts.

**AN: I gave two hints of my protagonists identity. If you think you have it PM me. Ill let you design a character I use in a later story. Next chapter I reveal who he is. **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I just realized how terribly short my chapters are in both of my stories. This will not happen anymore, if it means longer breaks between chapters, I will have longer chapters.**

**Primary School**

I stood at the outskirts of the once proud city. I could remember when it stood glorious. It was a true capital of Skyrim. Now Winterhold was in desolation, the Jarl held pogroms against my people. Elves were being persecuted in outrageous ways here. These backwards Nords tied Elves to rock and threw them into the Sea of Ghosts. If they found a truly powerful magicka user they nailed them to crucifixes and burned them. The irony was that the last great independent college of mages was located in this city.

That was the reason I came here. I have traveled the world over, joined countless guilds, Fighter and Mage alike, and Winterhold's College was the only one I hadn't attended. What secrets would I unravel? What complex spells would I learn? The anticipation was killing me. In my several century lifespan, I have unraveled many mysteries. I have learnt most spells. Now I wanted to see what else Azura would lead me to.

I entered the city pulling my hood down low on my face, with the Great War just ended and the rebellion of the Reach over, magicka users were hiding from everyone. I walked to the bridge leading to the castle that the college truly was. You could tell the place was riddled with Earth Magic. Most of Winterhold had collapsed into the sea after the Red Year. Despite this the College of Winterhold stood out on a rocky spire, only connected to mainland Skyrim by bridges.

At the gates stood a haughty female Altmer.

"Halt, what are your intentions at the College? Take off your hood!" She barked. I hoped that my not so warm reception wouldn't be a precursor to my whole experience.

"Peace, milady. I'm a Brother Elf. A Dunmer mage just wanting to unravel the mysteries of Aetherius." I replied lowering my hood to show her my facial profile. I am handsome for a Dunmer. Blazing red eyes resembling Red Mountain, hair black as the sins of the Tribunal, grown to my shoulders with a braid to my right side. It had been far too long since I had shaved, but being an elf I couldn't grow much facial hair anyway. I wore my old battlemage robes. I carried no weapons just the clothes on my body and a small fur backpack to shove my supplies into.

"I'm truly sorry, sera. I didn't recognize your elven qualities with your hood up. I assumed you to be another Nord harassing us." She visibly softened upon learning I wanted to take classes here at the college.

"Now ma'am, I hope you know what happens when you assume things. What it makes out of you and me." I grinned. I knew that as long as I wore the Moon-and-Star ring I could sweet talk my way with most people, but it never hurt to charm people. Especially not strong, attractive female mages. All is a win-win from my point of view.

"Y... Yes, I think I catch the joke. Please follow me, I'll take you to our Master Wizard." She smiled. It was an easy smile. Maybe I wouldn't need the ring to charm this one.

"But if you come with me who will guard the gate?" I asked. I had heard the stories of the mistreatment of the Mages. I didn't want anyone's innocent blood on my hands.

"Well, I am an expert in the Destruction school, so I will lay a few runes."

"I have something better. A Daedra lord who served the Tribunal."

Grinning, I called my Daedric servant to me. "Krazzt, guard this door until I return. Kill no one if you can help it, but stay alert. Let none pass"

The inhabitant of Oblivion merely nodded his head. He had been my only constant companion since my time before becoming Nerevarine so I knew he would do his job. I followed behind the High Elf. I watched her every movement on the way to the college gates. I had heard if you approach the college uninvited you could be thrown off by ancient wards. Now that I was here I knew this place wasn't trapped by ancient Nords. It was just dangerously windy. The destruction mage cast several unknown spells into the reservoir's lining the walkway. Apparently they formed a magical buffer against the elements. The spell she cast activated the buffers, and also made it so they recognized me every time I came by.

Walking into the main courtyard of the College of Winterhold reminded me of what I loved about Skyrim. I loved the snow. I loved the simplicity of its people. They lived therefore they were blessed. They had very few of the petty squabbles that their southern cousins had, or my Dunmer people strove for. Life seemed easier here in the frozen North. The troubles of the war seemed so distant. The war leaders remained in Cyrodiil. Hammerfell still fought so Emperor Titus Mede II ordered his generals to stay close at hand until that crises was settled. Skyrim was peaceful, not counting the banditry and inquisition.

The High Elf introduced me to a Breton named Mirabelle Ervine. She introduced herself, as the Master Wizard. She ran the college's day to day operations. She showed me around the campus, then walked me to my first class. It was the first day for the new instructor. Apparently the old Alteration trainer led a group of students into a forbidden part of the college. Three students died. The teacher disappeared. All that remained was the smell of sulfur. Arch-Mage Deneth called in a few favors and one of the court mages to move the college. He was a Talos worshipping Nord who lived in Markarth. Markarth would be the seat of the Thalmor in Skyrim.

"Welcome class. I'm the newest teacher here at the College. My name is Tolfdir. I am an expert in defensive magicka and Alteration." The teacher told the group. I looked around for the first time seeing a wide variety of races. I knew I would spend most of my time with them.

Atmah was the Redguard apprentice favored by Arch-Mage Deneth. She had trained in her native Sentinel, learning the way of fire magicka. Atmah was a snobby, pretentious woman. She knew that Deneth favored her and she made sure everyone knew it as well. I was not her biggest fan. I would go as far as say I couldn't stand the woman.

Girduin was a cowardly Bosmer from Valenwood. He had a brother in Riften who ran with the Thieves' Guild. I could tell he would never amount to much in a fight. While I would come to learn that he knew a vast amount of spells, he panicked under pressure.

Takes-In-Light was a female Argonian. She was training to be a Restoration mage. She hoped to learn enough healing magicka that she could return to Black Marsh. By doing this she would bring modern medicine to her village. During the Oblivion Crises, Black Marsh began relying heavily on the Hist tree. The Hist set the Argonians back technologically to the First Era. She hoped to bring Black Marsh back to the Fourth Era.

Hafnar Ice-Fist was the Nodric Ice mage. He was Atmah's right hand. I'm uncertain if they had a romantic connection or what. I just knew that when you saw one the other was never far away.

The other person in our group was a fellow Dunmer. Elvali Veren was the type of elf to give all elves a bad name. She was promiscuous beyond belief. She started in with the sweet talk to me as soon as I walked into the room. Her magicka was based on Illusion.

Tolfdir finished introduced himself, "Who knows any form of mage armor spells?"

I waited for anyone to reply. When no one did, I replied by casting stoneflesh. I stepped forward, grinning evily. I knew all eyes were on me.

"Ah, the newest Dunmer. What's your name, boy?" Tolfdir asked. He seemed pleasantly surprised I knew a mage armor spell.

"Savos, Savos Aren. House Aren, House Hlaalu, Great House Indoril, Great House Redoran, Great House Telvanni, formerly of the Synod, formerly of the College of Whispers, formerly of the Morrowind Chapter of the Mages Guild, Battlemage of the Red Legion." Came my reply. I knew he wasn't wanting the eloquent Elven way of introducing myself. I knew it would impress most of my classmates. I had lived longer than this Nord.

"By the Divines, I had forgotten how you Elves age differently. Well, Aren why don't you step up here so I can demonstrate how Stoneflesh works. I promise this won't hurt, much."

I stepped forward. Before I had time to react he threw a fireball. The fireball hit me directly in my chest. I immediately through lightening back at him. I honestly didn't mean to. It came from my time as a battlemage. To my surprise and immense relief, Tolfdir cast a greater ward. The spell immediately absorbed. Tolfdir yelled at the other students to get back. He through another fireball at me. My stoneflesh absorbed the spell. Tolfdir laughed and ordered me to send back. "Surely, you didn't expect to learn something practical? You are here therefore you know some form of magicka. Show me what you have!" With that I cast my strongest Destruction spell. Tolfdir's ward wasn't strong enough to stop my thunderbolt. The electric shock racked Tolfdir's body. He fell to one knee. "Enough, enough. I didn't realize you would kill me." **_Looking back, this would be the first and last time that Tolfdir would not teach something practical for his first lesson._**

My fellow classmates all stared at me. I let the sparks shoot through my fingers. Even Atmah seemed impressed. Maybe she now saw me as a threat. The other's stood silently, stunned at the display of power.

"Well, class now that we know the Empire trains its battlemages so, let's begin. Everyone partner up. Cast less powerful spells on each other, sparks should do. That way your partner just gets an unpleasant shock when their ward falters instead of frostbite or severe burns." Tolfdir said, the cheerfulness returning to his voice. I ended up being paired with Girduin. I found out that he knew ironflesh and greater ward. I could pump him full of electricity as long as he remained confident, but as soon as he lost his confidence or concentration, his ward failed.

After a few hours going through different Alteration, Destruction, and Restoration spells, Tolfdir finally allowed us to leave the class area. So we all headed back to the student living area. I grabbed the last of my traveling food and headed to the sparse bedroom Mirabelle had shown me to earlier. I sat in the chair and soaked in the events of the day.

I was being educated in subjects I already knew. It was the same old stuff, just a different day. I came to Winterhold to learn the magickas of the Nedes. I wanted to learn what the Dragon Priests used to instill fear in their enemies. I wanted to learn how they developed a way to control the dead thousands of years after they had died. That was not common necromancy. That was no mere feat. Yet I had spent most of my day in a class room going over spells and techniques I already knew.

When I finished my lone meal, I used detect life to see who all was around me. I saw Girduin curled into a ball in his bed. I saw the Ice-Fist and Atmah sitting in her room eating. Lights, as we had started calling her, was in the alchemy lab experimenting with potions. But Elvali was not in our building. I guess I would figure that one out later.

With a sigh, I took off my battlemages robes and put them into my wardrobe. I changed into some light sleeping clothes and sat out my College robes. I was unimpressed to find out that the College's mages robes were the same robes that the Vigilant's of Stendarr wore when they slaughtered magicka users. Well, not the Vigil's, they only kill daedra worshippers, necromancers, any and all other forms of black magicka practitioner. The group that killed all mages was a splinter faction known as Wytchhunters. Either way as a Son of Azura, the Vigil would kill me. As a mage, the Wytchhunters would kill me. They just didn't know that I wouldn't truly die. Amazing magicka, that.

I silenced the thoughts in my head. I had grown tired. The long day had exhausted me. Now I would attempt to rest. As sleep overcame me, I had a dream that I knew was a gift from Azura.

_I was in Skyrim, that much I could tell. But everything was different. I stood in the College. No one seemed to notice me. I could hear thunderous roars sweep across the sky. It was a sound not even I have heard before. I have lived hundreds of years just this life. I have lived almost a hundred different lives. I walked through the College and the only people I recognized were Faralda, Mirabelle, and Tolfdir._

_The elven blood running through Faralda's veins gave her the blessing to not look a day older than when I last saw her. Mirabelle looked about ten years older. I'm guessing it's the Breton blood. What truly enabled me to know I was in the future was looking at Tolfdir. The man who was in his early fifties when I was in his class now looked to be in his eighties. How amazingly does magicka preserve its people was all I could think._

_I walked towards then when I overheard the conversation. Dragons were back. Ulfric Stormcloack was brewing up trouble. Wasn't he the Nord that was captured at the Imperial City?_

_If dragons were back the people would be helpless._

_I heard Tolfdir say that the Nords had a legend about how a Dragonborn was destined to defeat the World Eater who brought about the return of the dragons._

I awoke with a start. I knew that in the Nerevarine prophesy, I was known as dragon-born, but was that different from Dragonborn? Was that why I was sent to Skyrim? Why I had been unallowed to die? 


End file.
